BLACK GIRL NAMED BECKY

180 Posts ... And That's All She Wrote

2010-03-30T12:07:00.000-05:00

So 180 seemed like a good place to bring our conversation to a close. A million 'Thank you's to all my friends & readers for sharing in this experience with me. (Gratitude to folks like the sweet-as-pie Korean gals at my local coffee shop who decided I shouldn't pay for pastries when they discovered I was a writer.)

Your kind words of support and encouragement were deeply appreciated, whether in the comments, giving me digital love, or on the streets.

If you found something here that was interesting enough to spark a feeling, a thought, a plan ... I'm delighted. But if it was just soulful enough to entertain you on occasion, then know that I'm smiling as I walk out the door.

Lights.

Can't Knock The Hustle: This is 'How To Make It In America'

2010-03-29T11:00:00.006-05:00

You know they're on to something when a scripted drama unfurls a scene set in the L.E.S. to the sounds of Digable Planets' "Pacifics (N.Y. Is Red Hot)". (If you know about baggy Guess and Timbs, then you know about DP.)

HBO's "How To Make It In America" is a grand, poetic celebration of the hustlin' spirit that brings people to New Yawk City, year after year.

Some sink, finding they're simply not cut out for the pace, the energy, the beat to which we natives in particular, walk. Others find their groove--and thrive, becoming essential ingredients in our melting pot.

"HTMIA" features pitch-perfect, comic writing and a stellar cast that includes Bryan Greenberg (a crush since I spotted him years ago on HBO's little-watched "Unscripted"), the up-and-coming Victor Rasuk, Shannyn Sossamon, and all-around Renaissance man Scott "Kid Cudi" Mescudi.

Add to that a shooting style that feels like scrolling through some of my fave street style blogs and gallery shows.

Ben (Greenberg) and Cam (Rasuk) are best friends determined to launch a premium denim business. "F**k a downtown loft, it's about Uptown luxury," says Cam, when they take a meeting with Ben's childhood classmate, a geek-turned-Hedge Fund big.

These cats remind me of my ultimate fictional hustler, Horsemouth, the Kingston drummer who battles the grimy music biz in Rockers (1978). I've been playing my Rockers DVD practically on a loop since '02, when I found myself transfixed by it at a loft party.

All grist for the inspiration mill. Here's to "Jettin'" (wink).

Secret Garden

2010-03-29T10:50:00.000-05:00

What about a floral harem jumpsuit for Spring? Fashion is in Full Bloom.

The End of Shame

2010-03-29T10:27:00.001-05:00

When your claim to fame is participating in a Hollywood "bling ring," which gets you arrested, but also lands you a reality television show of your very own, then the social boundaries for what's acceptable have really loosened. That's pretty wild.

Strike a Pose

2010-03-26T15:12:00.000-05:00

I don't remember now where I came across this photograph, but it reminds me of TriBeCa, where I toiled for some time and an area I really dig.

I'm just aching for real Spring weather in New York, ballet flats and sandals, and sunshine to greet the morning.

'Body Marked Up Like a Subway in Harlem'

2010-03-25T14:01:00.004-05:00

At the hair salon I went to regularly until it closed shop (market forces), the stylists were largely of Dominican descent and the clients were, like me, very old school about hair, e.g. no weaves, extensions.

We generally wore our hair long/longer and subscribed to the benefits of the bi-monthly roller set. Anyway, one summer day I made a bank run mid-wash with my rollers and net.

On my way back, noticed a handsome, heavily-tattooed guy in jeans and a white tee. He had that Irish coloring and his head was shaved close.

Leaning on a hydrant outside the salon door, I looked around and wondered whether he was just people-watching. The midtown salon full of well-coiffed girls often drew stares.

Soon, a very pregnant black girl with light brown hair stuffed her Apple laptop into a tote and strode right into tattooed guy's arms.

They made such a beautiful pairing but I admit I was initially surprised. And yet, I shouldn't have been. I appreciate the artfully tattooed body and am often drawn to guys with that look. Of course, not all ink is made alike (hip-hop has appropriated the parlor look and some rappers and athletes give it a bad name).

But Pittsburgh rapper Wiz Khalifa's needle-work is aite, as is Cali's own Tyga.

(Top, "Glamour Break, Harlem," Ruben Natal-San Miguel, 2009)

Bad Romance

2010-03-25T13:32:00.001-05:00

My name is Becky and I'm a Romantic.

I cried during the scene in Love Story (pictured, top) when Ali MacGraw's Jenny brings a jar of peanut butter and sliced bread for lunch with Ryan O'Neal's Oliver because they're newlyweds on a budget. I buy $0.99 writing notebooks covered in hearts.

But I also reject fantasy, end relationships when they're toxic, and don't believe there's such a thing as happily ever after. So, no 12-steps here.

Over the years, men I loved--and sometimes men I barely knew--tagged me like blog posts with easy labels: You're a romantic, you're on some poetry sh**, you think too much, you ask a lot of questions ...

Never meant to be complimentary, the words were tossed at me like hand grenades. But once you begin to truly settle into your skin, become your own fan, so to speak, the intended limitations of those labels just ring false. You're defining yourself.

Recently, I read a feature about Ali MacGraw in Vanity Fair, in which she detailed how she abandoned her scorching Hollywood career just as it was taking off, because her on- and offscreen love, the volatile leading man Steve McQueen, insisted.

McQueen was a serial cheat, abusive, and controlling. Yet, still, MacGraw said she struggled with feeling like she was good enough for someone as iconic as McQueen. Hollywood deals in well-crafted fiction.

Real love is about integrity and connection (and, yes, a dollop of romance).

Made You Look: Rachel Roy for Spring

2010-03-25T12:52:00.010-05:00

While covering fashion for a daily New York newspaper, I had the chance to attend and cover a Rachel Roy Fashion Week presentation, which are more intimate than runway showings, if less theatrical.

But I was often harried and sent instead one of my colleagues, who was a pro in her beat covering New York's social circuit. Still, I always regretted missing that appointment because I love all things Rachel Roy.

The theme of her Spring 2010 Lookbook is "What To Love" For Spring, and the designer of Dutch-Indian descent asked a handful of gifted gals to share what love meant to them.

What's amazing is that Rachel tapped a few of the chicks I'm inspired by, including Trinidadian renaissance girl Vashtie Kola, an artist, director, and designer, who proves you can do it all-and do it well. And the duo that comprises Nuyorican Queens band Nina Sky, Natalie and Nicole Albino.

With my locks shorn, people often teasingly call me Rihanna, but I was inspired last summer by Nicole's edgy 'do.

"Everything I do involves love and I don't commit to things that don't involve love," says Kola.

We should all live that way.

Go Ask Alice

2010-03-22T13:31:00.010-05:00

Just the other day, my cousin G and I were discussing literary heroines, namely Jane Eyre. G is 15&3/4 and currently immersed in what she considers a torturous, too-close reading of Charlotte Bronte's work.

But that got us talking about another English girl confronted with an undesirable marriage proposal, who holds out for real love.

Lewis Carroll's Alice, in Wonderland or Underland, as re-imagined on film by director Tim Burton, is another kind altogether.

Alice sorts dilemmas in her head; sprinkles "two teaspoons of wishful thinking" into concoctions like a distance runner shaking electrolytes into bottled water.

While I wasn't particularly bowled over by Burton's cinematic creation--I expected more of the "one pill makes you larger, the other makes you small" madness--I do appreciate that his Alice (talented Aussie Mia Wasikowska) is a headstrong 18-year-old, determined to do things her way.

Spoiler Alert: Alice refuses her red-headed suitor (he's rather boorish and beset by gastrointestinal issues, lol) during what turns out to be a lavish, surprise engagement party.

Instead, she takes up her late father's business, making expansion plans that will allow her intercontinental travel. I like to think she meets her prince along the way.

Lover's Rock

2010-03-17T16:14:00.004-05:00

Helen Folasade Adu. The queen.

Sade is not only famously reclusive, but she's also, yes, a soldier of love. In the late 90s, the Nigerian-British songstress fell in love with a Jamaica-born Rasta and musician with whom she later had a daughter.

She moved to Montego Bay and lived in what the press there teasingly called a commune, but was according to her, just a very open environment for her man and his entourage of musician friends and local Dreads.

Regardless of where she lays her bags and effects, her sound is always spices and flavorful. And when I hear the pounding, aggressive, "Soldier of Love," it sounds like the music of right now.

Stealing Beauty, Lagos Style

2010-03-17T15:56:00.006-05:00

I've been listening to a lot of Seun Kuti & the Egypt 80 lately. Fela's youngest son assembled most of the members of his father's band, taking up the mantle. Seun lives still in the rather run-down compound in crime-ridden Lagos where the Nigerian icon and his many wives resided and made music.

During performances, Seun's backup singers are decked out and made-up much the same as were their musical forebears. I'm dying to replicate this make-up look for a night...

(Pictured, a Fela woman, c. 1970s)

She 'Paints' Pictures, You Just Trace Her

2010-03-17T15:08:00.005-05:00

When we were in college my friend Justine Reyes would paint these achingly lovely, pastoral scenes of forlorn figures with drooping eyes, on snatches of unstretched canvas.

Hard to describe, but imagine Henri Matisse commissioned to illustrate the "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" series.

I've met many 'artists' over the years, but she is a true artist in the anachronistic sense. If you've ever been to Paris and visited the Montmartre district, with those winding roads, where struggling Van Gogh, Monet and others kept cramped studios, you'll understand.

There's nothing of the dilettante, rather she conquers whatever medium she's selected through a mix of innate creativity and rigorous training. Her photography, which is the focus of her personal and professional output, has a painterly quality.

Perhaps never more so than in her recent series, Vanitas, which references the 16th and 17th C. Dutch Masters. But the objects are gathered from personal effects.

You can catch a glimpse at Affirmation Arts, where her work is on view as part of the fresh group show 31 Women in Art Photography, co-presented by Humble Arts. (Through April 10.)

Still life paintings representative of Vanitas--Latin for "emptiness"--often incorporated skulls or rotting fruit and other objects meant to serve as commentary on the fleeting quality of life and life's pleasures.

(Pictured, "Still Life With Suitcase," and "Still Life With Banana, Purse and Change," Vanitas, 2009, courtesy of the artist. Nice work to amani olu.)

Scary Spice Lives Up to Her Name

2010-03-17T14:05:00.004-05:00

I'm always perplexed when celebs swagger-jack each other.

There's always some element of dipping into the same styling pool (stylists invariably pull from the same designer racks), but you expect oft-photographed entertainers to align first and foremost with the cult of individuality.

Not only is scary spice girl Mel B sporting Cassie's look, but the style just feels so dated now. Any edge or shock value it was supposed to evoke is nil. Moreover, I think the utter lack of fuzz on the shaved side gives Mel B a bald eagle quality.

Tired.

Unbreakable

2010-03-16T13:33:00.009-05:00

"You, as well as anybody I've ever seen, has been able to hold onto the space inside yourself," host Oprah Winfrey said to Alicia Keys on the March 5 episode of her talk show.

Keys appeared on that edition, as did ABC's Diane Sawyer, who allowed cameras to follow her into the newsroom as she prepped for the evening news, to my ridiculous delight. Two women who exude not just a luminescence but a certain unshakable quality that I believe you get when all of your aspects are in alignment.

Work, love, intention, all flowing from the same place.

Tipping Her Hat to Hattie

2010-03-08T18:53:00.009-05:00

Mo'Nique, who at last night's Oscars took the Best Supporting Actress statuette for her gritty turn in "Precious," is reportedly at work on a biopic of Hattie McDaniel.

Fans of Turner Classic Movies will know McDaniel as the attentive maid in "Gone With the Wind" (1939). The role - and in the 1930s there weren't many for black actors that didn't require pulling on housekeeping uniforms - won the Kansas-born McDaniel the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress on February 29, 1940.

I'm a longtime, die-hard Dorothy Dandridge devotee, and at one point it seemed every black entertainer from Janet Jackson to Whitney Houston was racing to play her, before Halle Berry pulled it out.

I think it's time Hattie got her due. This is Mo'Nique's part to perfect.

8.8 and Heartbreak

2010-03-01T12:27:00.007-05:00

More tragedy. In Chile, this weekend, an earthquake 500 times the strength of the one that shook Haiti in January. The U.S. Geological Survey says it's not a matter of if, but when a quake hits some region in the U.S. (Above, a devastated apartment building in Concepcion.)

GTL: An Ode to the "Jersey Shore"

2010-02-28T20:48:00.006-05:00

It was late November '09 when I first started spotting trailers for "Jersey Shore." A fan of MTV's "True Life" docu series, I'd been mesmerized by the hour they'd devoted a couple years back to the Garden State's summer resort. A group of 20-somethings descended on it each balmy weekend looking for love (and trouble).

The reality series premiered on Dec. 3, with a cast of eight self-proclaimed "guidos and guidettes" and a quiet storm of controversy from offended Italian-American advocacy groups. Holy Outrageousness! The show was riveting for all the right and wrong reasons.

But when I asked around, it seemed only a select band of my pop-culturally attuned friends were watching. The rest, as you know, is television history.

"Jersey Shore" and its cast are a bona fide phenomenon, excoriated in The New Yorker, spoofed and lampooned on late night shows, and the generator of nicknames so inventive, the tags are rivaled only by Mob nomenclature.

G.T.L. Gym, tanning, laundry. I laughed, I cried, I "beat the beat," I related to all of that passion and familial loyalty, the (neighbor) hood slang...

And now lensman Terry Richardson will immortalize them in Interview (l. to r. "The Situation," Vinny, Richardson, Ronnie, and DJ Pauly D) Salute!

You Want Love, John Mayer?

2010-02-28T20:07:00.011-05:00

I ventured into enemy territory on Thursday when, in the wake of a blustery snowstorm, I scored tickets to John Mayer's two-night stand at the world's greatest arena.

The singer/guitarist of the bluesy, pop catalog, made headlines again when his apparent lack of a filter in the face of recording devices led him to give Playboy mag one of the more glib celebrity interviews I've read in a while.

He went in on exes Jennifer Aniston and Jessica Simpson, deconstructed his porn addiction, and had this to say about black girl fans. Turns out John-John, 32, doesn't think a black woman's body is a wonderland:

PLAYBOY: Do black women throw themselves at you?

MAYER: I don’t think I open myself to it. My di*k is sort of like a white supremacist. I’ve got a Benetton heart and a f***in’ David Duke co*k. I’m going to start dating separately from my di*k.

PLAYBOY: Let’s put some names out there. Let’s get specific.

MAYER: I always thought Holly Robinson Peete was gorgeous. Every white dude loved Hilary from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. And Kerry Washington. She’s superhot, and she’s also white-girl crazy. Kerry Washington would break your heart like a white girl...

So with the Karyns (Parsons of 'FPoB') and Kerrys in mind, went to the concert sure I'd be sour. I won't even get into the racial politics in this space. But (good) music transcends.

Mayer's latest, "Battle Studies," is evolved and hearing his live rendition of its gems like "Assassin" and "Who Says" (the latter, aptly in New York City) was uplifting, literally; I was out of my seat.

He apologized yet again for being "an a**hole." Hard not to forgive - at least for the night.

Skater Girl

2010-02-28T19:50:00.008-05:00

Have to admit, I've been largely taking in Olympics coverage in a peripheral manner, reading the sports section and catching highlights (skier Lindsey Vonn, snowboarder Scotty Lago and his legion of female medal-lickers, the four-man U.S. bobsled teams, et al).

But for all the success the U.S. Olympians have enjoyed in Vancouver this Winter, I'm really moved by the performance of South Korean gold-medal figure skater Kim Yu-Na.

Her programs have been as elegant as they are technically proficient.

Everyone from Dorothy Hamill to Michelle Kwan has taken notice. And it's not just the double axels: Yu-Na's costumes, including a beaded ombre number, are to die. Worth checking out.

Rogers and Heart

2010-02-28T19:32:00.006-05:00

I can't say for sure, but somehow I think First Lady Michelle Obama may have had something to do with this.

Desiree Rogers announced last week she'll step down from her post as White House Social Secretary. The designer dud-donning Ms. Rogers (pictured here in Comme des Garçons at the Nov. 24, 2009, State Dinner) made Mrs. Obama, in her J.Crew and Jason Wu, look like a fashion lightweight when it came to dressing.

I mean sure, Rogers suspended all etiquette and protocol to seat herself as a guest at the aforementioned state dinner, when she should have been manning the door against fame-seeking gatecrashers. And yes, she loved her Vogue spreads, but she was fabulous! [Laughs.]

Here's hoping her return to the private sector includes all the step-and-repeats she can accommodate.

Mr. Carter Goes to the Dentist

2010-02-23T15:48:00.007-05:00

Whenever my friend M meets a new guy, I know we'll be discussing his mouth first, and not how he kisses, nor an assessment of how good he is with his...but rather an evaluation of his orthodontia. Teeth, their general cleanliness and professional maintenance, are key, lol.

Hearing Weezy had to undergo eight root canals (Dirty Mouth?) to repair damage wrought by his grills (and probably other neglect), including major surgery to implant new choppers, made me think of her.

She'd approve of the improvements but I don't think she'd ever have, say, shared a Lollipop with him, his sexy "On Fire" video notwithstanding.

All of those hours slumped back in the dentist's chair are of course in preparation for the Young Money capo's 12-month bid, which begins March 2, in New York.

"Opening" Night? Let Denim Rule

2010-02-23T15:08:00.003-05:00

Attending a good number of museum and gallery exhibition openings means getting to see not just great art, but also great fashion.

I think if ever there's an atmosphere where sartorial rules don't apply, it's in the company of art - whether fine or flaky. I love to see girls and boys make an effort.

At my last outing, I wore the cutoffs, tights, and military boots I'd had on all day and just added a chunky metallic knit wrap. And with spring in the offing, I totally co-sign another denim chic look: the ever-fresh Zoe Kravitz, pictured here (in fedora).

For downtowners, Damon Dash (here with daughter Ava, and ex-wife designer Rachel Roy) recently entered the gallery fray with a three-storey space in TriBeCa. It'll be fun to see what hipster-b-boy fashion turns up there.

Paparazzi

2010-02-23T14:48:00.003-05:00

Hopped on the 7 train and was drawn to my fellow commuter's "ears." On a subway line not particularly known for its stylish straphangers, I loved that she seemed to have fallen out of the pages of some gothy, "bad romance" novel. Asked to take her picture, she was bashful but acquiesced.

P.S.: I Love You

2010-02-09T21:03:00.003-05:00

Definitely one my favorite moments at the 2010 edition of the Grammy Awards was Bey accepting her golden gramophone with an "I love you" to her "husband" Jay - in front of millions.

I found it refreshingly unscripted; seemed spontaneous, especially for a couple that takes care to manage and guard its public image.

That's what Valentine's Day should be about, right, being able to proclaim your love purely and at high volume;)

Reflecting on Haiti: Tragedy to Triumph

2010-02-09T20:52:00.000-05:00

I've always been fascinated by the enclaves in which immigrant communities will attempt recreate "home" (has a bit to do with how I ended up in my current neighborhood).

For first generation Haitian-Americans who were born and reared across what we call the diaspora, I find our experience is marked by certain shared memories.

These days, I cherish that culture, history more than ever. Wrote a little post about it over at the super blog of the gentlemen of Coup d'etat Brooklyn. Check it out here.

Unlocking Pandora

2010-02-09T20:43:00.003-05:00

I'm still basking in the 3D glow of James Cameron's billion-dollar baby, Avatar. Critics have assailed it for an oversimplified plot, but I'm not bothered so much by the facile natives-good-corporations-bad storyline.

It was a marvel to watch, and I felt as close to what I imagine it must have been like to see talking pictures projected onto a large screen for the first time. Did you feel the same way, once the Hallelujah Mountains, for instance, came into view? Or the lush, pinkish green forest, where Neytiri and Jake Sully first encounter each other?

Reading that Cameron had initially come up with the idea for Avatar in 1996 - stalled waiting for the technology to catch up to his vision - was even more interesting to me. How often do we sit on a great idea or a plan without ever bringing it to fruition?

It takes some kind of singular focus to stay with it as Cameron did. But too many times we don't even get close to tapping into that spirit.

Four Women: The Marrying Kind

2010-01-29T14:21:00.006-05:00

Someone once said that women should become the men they want to marry.

By now, if you're a black girl like becky, you’ve probably viewed the ABC “Nightline” segment on the sorry dating lives of black women.

Featured were four Atlanta women who had, in effect, become the men they wanted to marry—Benz-driving, high-powered, attractive, home-owning, advanced-degree-holding, upwardly-mobile 20- and early 30-somethings.

These were definitely not the embattled “Four Women” of Nina Simone’s 1966 lament, but rather reflections eternal of her late-career “A Single Woman.” Not only were they all single; some hadn’t seen the inside of a committed relationship in a decade.

These sorts of (self-imposed) dry spells are most problematic because intimate relationships move you forward emotionally, spiritually, physically in ways unmatched by even the strongest platonic bond.

According to the doomsday clip, while these Georgia peaches were off becoming prosecutors and publicists, more than a sprinkling of available black men had hauled off to jail, joined the ranks of the unemployed, or failed to secure a high school diploma. The statistics were dire.

But it wasn’t hard to decipher why these friends, like too many, might not have found better halves.

One woman, a 32-year-old, said she’d long kept a list of 50 requirements for potential suitors tucked into her Bible, which she recently pared down to 10.

Good for her I guess, but a sheet of 50 bullet points represents 50 barriers to entry.

How many dynamic black men had she overlooked in that span? Another, a 34-year-old who stands 5’9,” decided to come down from her sky-scraping height requirement of 6’5” to a supposedly more reasonable 6 feet.

Either she’s had special access to the Atlanta Hawks locker room or she’s asleep.

Water seeks its own level. Become your best self…the rice and rings will follow.

Raise High the Roof Beam, Salinger

2010-01-29T01:02:00.002-05:00

A corner of my bedroom bookcase is devoted to J.D. Salinger's slim volumes, but winter had me thinking about the classic (and my all-time favorite) "Franny and Zooey."

In it, Lane is a Burberry-coat wearing, insufferable know-it-all who's actually very much in love with his girl, Franny.

He keeps a letter she's written in his inside coat pocket; on one occasion he runs out of places to kiss her and kisses her coat lapel. (Swoon at both of those.)

Anyway, Franny's in the middle of a full-blown spiritual breakdown, but it's the details that get me: They dine on frog's legs and Martinis, rock cashmere like sweats, and get in heated debates over Tolstoy.

The reclusive 91-year-old American author died Wednesday at his home in New Hampshire, to which he'd retired 50 years ago, shirking the literary fame he'd once craved. Rest peacefully.

Gimme Shelter

2010-01-22T15:58:00.007-05:00

What's most frustrating about the situation in Haiti is the apparent lack of organization.

President Rene Preval and his cabinet are holed up in a police station not far from Port-au-Prince Airport last I heard, but I don't get a clear sense that they're spearheading anything.

Now comes word that some of the nearly 1 million Haitian residents left homeless and sleeping under the open sky might finally be the beneficiaries of temporary tents that will be set up in outlying areas. Accommodations are estimated to target about 400,000 survivors ahead of the forthcoming rainy season. The operative word here though must be "temporary."

An article in the Times outlines a proposal by the Haitian government and international officials for temporary housing to eventually turn into a second phase that would include a sort of Habitat for Humanity model for permanent housing.

All week I've been thinking the upside of such destruction is the potential to eventually create jobs in a country where unemployment typically hovers around 65%. Just trying to think forward.

Rescue Me

2010-01-22T15:25:00.004-05:00

So many horrifying images, everyday I'm processing, you've probably noticed I've had a hard time putting the enormity of the event itself into words.

But in the devastation, at least there have been moments of light. I cried tears of joy when I saw video of this perfect little boy, Kiki, beaming as he was rescued by New York Task Force 1, a US search-and-rescue team, along with his 10-year-old sister in Port-au-Prince.

The siblings spent eight days buried under the rubble of their home.

(Photograph by Matthew McDermott)

The Natural High That the Fugees Bring

2010-01-22T14:42:00.005-05:00

Shout to the brother Wyclef, who was holding down his brethren well before it was in vogue. I still remember the frantic running among all my friends to set the VCR the first time 'Clef showed up on a nationally televised awards show draped in the Haitian flag.

This, at a time, when the dirty little secret was that we were still having to forcibly out Haitiens attempting to pass for Jamaican or some such, giving rise to the term "Ja-fakin."

The subsequent success of The Fugees (18 million albums sold) did more symbolically for Haitian self-regard, particularly in the diaspora, than I think can be quantified.

With all of the concerts for Haiti relief that are in the works, I have to say my fantasy is a Fugees reunion.

If comedian Dave Chappelle could get them to set aside their differences for one afternoon in Bed-Stuy, I don't see why the trio couldn't transcend any bitterness for Port-au-Prince.

Shirt Off My Back

2010-01-22T14:25:00.000-05:00

On a lighter note, I've been shaking the pom-poms for CNN's coverage, which is nonpareil in my opinion as far as broadcast outlets are concerned. (The journalist in me can't help but dissect how stories are being told.)

Critics have accused the marquee reporters of showboating for the cameras, but the cable network has kept the camera trained on the scene with solid reporting and seamless transitions to other news stories like the Massachusetts special election.

The style reporter in me also quite automatically has been examining the sartorial choices of those assigned to cover the earthquake aftermath. Seems I'm not the only one, as this piece reflects.

I know it's probably not foremost on his mind, but I can't help but think that Anderson Cooper puts at least passing thought into those T-shirts.

And Dr. Sanjay Gupta, so incredibly well-coiffed, also in the now requisite black or grey tee, always gives me the impression that he's fresh from a shower. Rather incongruous given Haiti's sweltering temperatures and the dust and debris.

We Forward in This Generation...Triumphantly

2010-01-22T14:04:00.006-05:00

On Wednesday, Oprah dedicated the hour to Haiti and earthquake relief; I caught the insomniac edition at 1 a.m. [Smile.]

Wyclef joined her to illuminate the situation on the ground in Port-au-Prince and surrounding areas also affected by this (un)natural disaster.

He also defended accusations of shoddy accounting practices on the part of his five-year-old foundation Yele Haiti. And the beautiful Maxwell, (finally) repping his Haitian heritage, sang "Fistful of Tears."

By now, particularly if you're of Haitian descent like me, but even if you're not, you've likely been inundated with fundraising-related invites and messages.

Everything from fashion shows to weekly parties to restaurant dining at places like Fatty Crab and Babbo has been re-purposed for Haiti Relief. A telethon, "Hope For Haiti Now," airs tonight.

I couldn't be happier, but I imagine it can be overwhelming to know where to give.

Rihanna's rendition of Bob's "Redemption Song," which she performed on the Wednesday Oprah episode was stirring. I'd recommend downloading it on Itunes.

Another simple, small way to give.

Sunday After the Quake

2010-01-17T21:06:00.004-05:00

With a population that is 80% Catholic, Haitians are a prayerful people. The cathedral is demolished but services were held outside.

Jewel of the Caribbean

2010-01-14T00:12:00.003-05:00

As my friend A noted: Everyone who even looks at this post should donate or should have already donated text Yele to 501501 for a $5 donation or Haiti to 90999 for a $10 donation to the Red Cross. (Yele Haiti is the foundation, as many of you have learned, headed by entertainer/activist/philanthropist Wyclef Jean.)

A Million Ways to Get It...You Get It?

2010-01-07T23:35:00.013-05:00

My family is a "house" divided over the admittedly disturbing, if stunning, "On to the Next One" video. The clip is either an art critic's dream or a satanic ritual in black-and-white.

The diamond encrusted skulls in Jay-Z and Swizz Beatz's collabo clip took me, of course, to Damien Hirst's decadent (macabre?) platinum cast of a human skull encrusted with flawless diamonds.

A writer for The L, adroitly made the added reference to drip painters like Pollock.

But where abstract art lovers see iconography, others see allusions to masonic blood/wine oaths, the evidence of which was first supported by a handful of YouTube video postings gone quickly viral.

It's clearly possible Jay either subscribes or has had serious exposure to teachings/literature/connections related to such, I just am scratching my head at why he would out his "secret society" leanings in a series of music videos to be seen and deconstructed by millions. Hiding in plain sight as a strategy? Build an empire and then set it aflame with populist backlash?

But if he's indeed made vids like "Run This Town" a public declaration, do we have a religious litmus test for rappers?

Regardless of Hov's (anti)theistic proclivities, the Follow the Follower mentality is what irked me initially. Certainly, one should question the ideas that offend. But reading these bastardized 4th-hand interpretations of what Pookie at the corner store said about Jay is just excruciating.

Suddenly, everyone is an expert in semiotics. The information age indeed.

(My as-yet-unconfirmed directing credit goes to artist Sam Brown.)

My Name Is Earl

2010-01-07T00:30:00.009-05:00

Earl Nightingale that is.

The "dean of personal development". I largely tend to think the mainstream, latter-day self-help, tell-me-a-Secret, eat, pray, love your way out of it movement is a racket, lacking in purity. (With five fingers' worth of exceptions.) But ol' Earl, like Florence Scovel Shinn, precedes all of that. As with many life-enhancing lessons, I got put on by a friend.

A Little Bit Country (Apple)

2010-01-07T00:18:00.002-05:00

For years, I had to stay away from Bath & Body Works. Not just because I was on some "Change Clothes" ish, graduating to fragrances and scents (Marc! Dior! Ralph!) befitting a young woman and not a co-ed, but because the smell of those spritzes had become so inextricably linked to my undergrad years. But recently, I stopped into a store for the first time and it was totally sweet.

Looking back, my friends' B&BW selections were like windows into their personalities. The romantics stuck to the floral notes in Juniper Breeze or Plumeria; the classic, Gwyneth types were all Country Apple, and the more adventurous among us tended to pick up tangy flavors like Pink Grapefruit. Which were you?

Design of a Decade

2009-12-31T18:10:00.003-05:00

It was decadent at times, tragic at others, but all in all pretty magical. Lessons were never in short supply, I realize, as we head into this final year of the naughts. (An illuminating New Yorker Talk of the Town piece this past week underscored my decision to use the "correct" terminology, e.g. not "aughts", for the decade spanning 2001-2010.)

Anyway, looking forward to actually living those lessons. Happy New Year everyone!

I'm Watchin' That Oxygen, He Watchin' ESPN

2009-12-22T04:01:00.004-05:00

"Bestest" verse by a female MC in '09 is Nicki Minaj on "Bed Rock". Granted, she didn't have much in the way of competition, but she did Barbies everywhere proud. [Laughs]

So Lame

2009-12-22T01:57:00.009-05:00

First time I came across the term "landsman" was years ago while reading the Joyce Maynard memoir of her relationship with reclusive J.D. Salinger.

The "Catcher in the Rye" author said he'd read then-18-year-old Maynard's 1972 manifesto about her generation and knew immediately they were landsmen.

Etymologically speaking, it comes from the word for a fellow Jew who hails from the same town or district, usually in Eastern Europe.

I like to think of blogger Amit, the boy genius (above) from Tenn., behind Lame Basics as one of my landsman - only he's so much cooler than me [laughs] and I've told him as much.

When he's not filling out grad school applications, he's documenting his wares aka "lame basics", excavating old Japanese films, or bigging up his girl, Jane, who fashion heads will know from Sea of Shoes.

Getting Free

2009-12-21T18:15:00.005-05:00

As another year comes to a close, do you find yourself taking stock? Assessing the ledger of your goals to see how they measure up against your accomplishments? Well, how'd you do??

Maybe you vowed to adhere to clean eating (three squares + plenty of water, fruits, and vegetables), but instead found yourself either under-eating to the point of obsession, or over-eating to the point of numbness.

Or perhaps you were going to write that graphic novel-introduce yourself to the cute guy on the L train-save for a rainy day-take a chance on love-apply to grad school-pay off your Henri Bendel bill-recommit to your spiritual practice-spend more time with your family-watch less reality TV and more public broadcasting-be more fearless...all in the name of getting free.

If you're in the black, I salute you! But if you came up short, no need to wallow: May I recommend Miss Alicia Keys's The Element of Freedom, a disc that is as introspective as it is soulful, as you regroup?

Every day presents another chance to get it right.

'Add as Friend'

2009-12-21T16:43:00.008-05:00

It might not seem that way given the proliferation of social media, but friendship is a choice, not an obligation.

Women tend to bungle this. How often have you found yourself holding onto a friendship way past its "sell by" because you felt guilty about letting go or because of some tenuous ties?

I've also been on the receiving end of irrational devotion from mere acquaintances. Ever experienced this? Girls, in particular, who'll create an imaginary bond with you based on what they believe is common ground?

On inspection, you couldn't be more Granny Smith and Florida Citrus.

I used to be absolutely gripped by residual Catholic school guilt, feeling like I owed anyone who sought it - my friendship.

Which is not to say that we shouldn't make every effort to be good to people in general, but who we choose to "friend" in life becomes a reflection of who we are.

A Single Man

2009-12-21T15:10:00.002-05:00

Saw A Single Man at the very retro City Cinemas Paris Theatre @ 58th Street. Director Tom Ford, the sartorial powerhouse who revived the flagging Gucci empire in the late '90s, proves that creative energy should never be stifled as he makes the transition from fashion to film.

The film is so stunningly shot; it lingers, but never indulgently so. And the men from costume to physique - are beautiful (Hello, Matthew Goode).

Colin Firth, in a defining role (forget all the bumbling Bridget Jones stuff), is extraordinary as the grieving 40-something English professor at a small California college in the early 1960s.

Admittedly, I've never actually seen a cinematic depiction of two men in love. But the film based on Christopher Isherwood's novel of the same name presents it as a story about just...love. (Above, a shot from the set, and movie poster)

Opens nationwide Dec. 25

Season's Greetings

2009-12-21T10:54:00.005-05:00

Hands down, my favorite time of year. This weekend the powder was plentiful. Nothing like a blizzard to slow us down. Did you cue up DVDs and sip egg nog varietals? (My actress friend V decided the show must go on, so we all celebrated her B'Day on Saturday in the Slope; couldn't have been better)

Like a Simmons Whipping Pastry

2009-12-07T15:11:00.004-05:00

E! channel viewers can keep up with the fame-loving Kardashians, but we'll ride with the Simmons sisters, Vanessa and Angela, rap royalty. (Above, a shot from the most recent Honeymag.com cover.)

I Love Gottino: Rustic Dining in the Village

2009-12-07T14:25:00.009-05:00

Dined last week at Gottino, a narrow Italian wine bar/gastropub in the West Village.

The small plate menu felt very Top Chef (laughs). Although I was ravenous, I tried to channel the table manners of judge Padma Lakshmi.

My faves were a triangle of kunick cheese with cranberry beans, seasonal heirloom apples stuffed with pork sausage, and a jar of salt-cured cod with toasts.

Like the Singing Coming Off The Drums

2009-12-07T13:30:00.010-05:00

Nothing like verse to kick off a busy week, right?

You wake up with morning breath - I wake up with poems on the lips. (Chuckles)

I discovered Sonia and a gaggle of black poets when I was 16, 17. Because we were never exposed to them in school, and my father's taste ran to Kiplng and Yeats, I'd grown up believing black folk had abandoned meter after Langston Hughes.

Here is what I woke up reciting in my head:

I dreamt I was tangoing with
you, you held me so close
we were like the singing coming off the drums.
you made me squeeze muscles
lean back on the sound
of corpuscles sliding in blood.
i heard my thighs singing.

-"Dancing" by Sonia Sanchez

Brooklyn, Thy Name is Beauty

2009-12-01T19:12:00.006-05:00

Willoughby. Hoyt-Schermerhorn. Nostrand. Marcy.

I walk those avenues and their names sing to me! Although I came to life in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn, I came of age in a Caribbean hamlet in Queens and on verdant Long Island.

Maybe I left something in BK (laughs)?

I suppose I still ain't found what I'm looking for, but I seek...

A recent jaunt to Fulton landed me at Restoration Plaza, where the newly opened Live To Change Something Through Art exhibit pulls into sharp focus the Brooklyn Arts movement.

Highlighting the curatorial arm of Nakeisha Gumbs (under the aegis of Coup d'Etat Arts Collective), the exhibit bowed with a mid-afternoon bash of beautiful art and beautiful people. Intricate woodcuts, collage, oils...

Kings and Queens - and I don't mean the counties - loom large in this show: For instance, Brooklyn MCs Big Daddy Kane (the original Smooth Operator) and the late Big get their due in imaginative ways.

And Livingroom Johnston's anthropomorphic Elephants (kings of a different variety?) are downright sexy and made me laugh out loud.

(Above, image by unstoppable lensman Kwesi Abbensetts. Through February 21, 2010. Skylight Gallery, 1368 Fulton St., Bklyn, NY)

The Voodoo That You Do

2009-12-01T18:57:00.007-05:00

He may not have R&B heartthrob looks but I looove Mario's voice. When he sings to me, I've been "Thinking About You" all night, I believe him. (Laughs)

This Baltimore native drew up the venetian blinds on his troubled upbringing in an MTV special not long ago, confronting his heroin-addicted mother on-camera.

When a man rolls you up a beautiful love song and laces it with his pain, his hardship, there are just no ceilings on what it can arouse in you.

D'Angelo had mastered this quality. The Virginia native and 90s neo-soul pioneer dropped his sophomore album, Voodoo, in 2000, only to be felled by a heroin addiction of his own and general industry drama.

The Soulquarians did damage on this introspective, conceptual disc and too few fans grasped it ("The Root", "One Mo' 'Gin", "Greatdayndamornin").

Voodoo is a throwback album made the way an artist used to make an LP - by immersing one's self. At Electric Lady Studios D'Angelo called forth hougans and mambos. Maybe the spirits were too much.

Once Bitten...Team Jacob

2009-12-01T17:54:00.006-05:00

I'm a shameless fan of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight saga. Sure, she writes like a 7th grader, but she gets to the essence of adolescent desire like nobody's business.

Fangs and pangs.

No self-help guru has to tell a 16-year-old girl to live in the moment: She lives emphatically in the present. With every glance, kiss, word, her temperature changes. And Meyer's books, and the films adapted from them, capture those mercurial feelings.

So I'd forced my friend J to see Twilight with me, and laughed so hard. But I got it. This is pure fantasy fulfilled. The blood-thirsty, Shakespeare-reciting, rock-star beautiful Edward Cullen denying the carnal urge to do what comes most naturally to him - all in the name of love.

The intense battle is writ large on his face; a clenched fist; eyes darting. In the end, he contents himself...to watch her sleep. (Awww, right, lol?)

So I was all dona sangre until I saw New Moon, which left me drooling over this shirtless pack of Native American wolves, with backstory to boot.

Original Book Club Selection

2009-12-01T17:38:00.004-05:00

OMG! Eighties baby girls know the Scholastic series The Baby-sitter's Club was required reading. I think I was reading an item on Jezebel when I came across a mention of the titles. I ordered and read every single one of these books when they came out, as did my friends. We had like "serious" discussions about Kristy and the crew; wasn't even about the babysitting, but all the boy drama and neighborhood capers, lol. Oh, the age of innocence.

Group Therapy

2009-11-23T15:20:00.012-05:00

We're like "Kids" again every time my photog friend J.R. convenes Art Class on a random Sunday. Word to MGMT, the energy is straight back-to-school: crayons and Cray-Pas, paints and paper, and, during this latest edition, suds and salsa.

What began more than a year ago for and at the downtown apartment of another friend, J.A., soon blossomed into group sessions.

The regulars are complemented by a rotation of guest pupils: photographers, painters, clothing and graphic designers, graffiti artists, cultural taste-makers...

J.R. is a new recipient of the prestigious LMCC grant, so we took class on the road to her spacious studio, where J.A. proved she's in her Blue Period, sketching a masterpiece under our noses in her personal pad. Oh, you think I'm kidding?

We make masterpieces here, lol. Reveling in the the waxy scent of Crayolas, the smeared goodness of Cray-Pas, we come to group, make art, and take only what we need from it.

(Oh, Good Afternoon, Leroy Jenkins; photo courtesy of Jane Aiello)

In the Mood For Love

2009-11-21T14:55:00.003-05:00

Sometimes when I'm strolling in my neighborhood after-hours - the crowds receded, giving way to scents, sounds, shop windows - I feel like I've stumbled onto a Wong Kar-Wai set. In the Mood For Love, 1962 Hong Kong to be exact. Sublime. (Netflix it.)

Tried Sleeping With a Broken Heart; Popped an Ambien Instead

2009-11-21T14:10:00.005-05:00

Not only has this song been lodged in my head for two weeks and counting, it's the most uplifting lullaby I've heard in a minute. Maybe it's the la, la, la's...or maybe I just hear joy where I want to hear it;)

Rihanna Takes a Bow

2009-11-21T13:20:00.009-05:00

I know that stylist Mariel Haenn is the real wizard behind Rihanna's we're-not-in-Barbados-anymore transformation, but I'm feeling the looks all the same. (That said, I did take issue with the heavy-handed Sharon Stone/Basic Instinct sartorial reference she pulled for Rih on that ABC primetime interview a couple weeks ago.)

Anyone who's met me can attest to my taste for bold lip color, and my tendency to force aggression onto my girlish pieces.

So, for instance, a recent photo of Rih on her birthday in militarized Bess boots and a Ladies-Who-Lunch, body-hugging sweater dress was right up my alley. Say what you will about her style not being organic but she gives off something far more authentic than the average pop star.

Her December Glamour magazine cover and spread now ranks as one of my favorites. (And goodness knows I'm a Vogue girl.)

Georgia (O'Keeffe) On My Mind

2009-11-21T01:27:00.001-05:00

All of me is waiting for you to touch the center of me with the center of you.

That's Georgia O'Keeffe from one of hundreds of letters she wrote to her mentor and husband, the photographer Alfred Stieglitz. I don't know about you but I think there's something lost in the shorthand of email and text messaging. That's a love letter.

This is not, lol: Cnt wait 2 c u.

There are those artists you overlook because your earliest exposure to them was decidedly low-brow - like dentist's office waiting room low-brow. At least that's where I remember first seeing American artist Georgia O'Keeffe's (1887-1986) blooming flower paintings.

But the painter's oeuvre is so much more than climaxing flora or throbbing wombs. She was creating studies on nature. I got to see those as well as her watercolors and charcoal drawings dating back to the 1910s up-close this past week at the Whitney's exhibit of her work, "Georgia O'Keeffe: Abstraction".

Her technique - borrowed from Modernist photography - was radical - but her process was all emotion.

(Seen above, one of my faves, "Wave, Night", 1928, Oil on canvas) Whitney Museum of American Art, 75th and Madison Ave., 6 to 77th Street.

Sly Fox

2009-11-17T13:33:00.002-05:00

I love the idea of young auteurs like Spike Jonze and Wes Anderson taking on children's classics, and I'm a serious die-hard for all things Anderson. (Even his lesser works like The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou (2004) or The Darjeeling Limited (2007)are visual marvels to dissect.)

So I was just tickled when walking last Thursday on the Upper East Side, I caught sight of some of the actual animated figures and sets from Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009) propped up in the windows of Bergdorf Goodman (pictured above, sorry shabby camera phone!). This row of general stores, delis, law offices, and more, made the Barbie Dream House of my youth look like the work of pre-schoolers.

Anderson has taken his painstaking attention to detail to new heights in this stop-motion animation flick, forbidding the use of any CGI to create everything from grass (terry cloth) to water (Saran Wrap).

I stood chatting and gawking with another onlooker about how life-like the little creatures looked (real fur was used) - as well their habitats. Anderson has them wearing real corduroy suits, for instance, albeit tiny versions of Savile Row tailoring. It's a worth a walk on the East Side to peep!

Brothers and Sisters: Acting Out

2009-11-02T16:50:00.001-05:00

For my friend V, who's an accomplished actress, it was no thing to spend parts of the last two weekends at the iconic Public Theater on Lafayette, but for me it was a wonder. She scored tickets for us to see a trilogy of works called the Brother/Sister Plays.

It's been a while since I saw so much staged work and in so little time. Add to that, she got us backstage access to meet and chat with the handsome and insanely talented playwright, 29-yo Tarell McCraney, and the cast of equally talented actors, as Oskar Eustis nibbled on pizza nearby before jumping on his bike homeward.

The plays, which borrow liberally from Yoruba legend, follow brothers Ogun and Oshoosi Size, and a satellite of orbiting characters from Elegba to Oshun. Set in the Louisiana bayou, the dialogue has a rich, contemporary flavor. McCraney can weave in laugh-out-loud references to G-Unit and Ralph Tresvant, even while exploring themes like black male sexuality.

So inspiring being in the company of bright, young, black, M.F.A.-having actors, V (fresh off Ruined) included. You must see these plays, I'd recommend seeing Part II if you can't do both. (Thru Dec. 13)

Life Is 'Precious'

2009-11-02T16:45:00.005-05:00

Every couple of months or so, I'll be racing up the stairs of my building only to stumble over my neighbor splayed out on the steps with her pink backpack at her feet. She's about 14, skin the color of cooling espresso, and although she is baby-faced, she stands 6' with an equally imposing weight.

On the days she forgets the keys to the apartment she shares with her mother, she lies in wait. Her mother shares her physical dimensions but with a masculine frame and the combat-booted gait to match. Unfortunatly, I'm witness to the tongue lashings she endures for minor offenses like forgetting her keys.

My young neighbor is precious and a teenage girl's psyche is fragile. Every word you aim at them is a weapon. How many times have you passed an exhausted, bitter mother berating her little ones?

So I try the little bit I can to sprinkle verbal honey her way, whatever I can do to cut the sting. When I first started seeing the trailers for "Precious" (Nov. 6), starring 24-yo newcomer and Harlemite Gabby Sidibe, I couldn't help but flash to my neighbor. One of a few films I'm genuinely eager to see.

Raymond vs. Raymond

2009-11-02T16:30:00.002-05:00

A couple days ago, I caught an episode of PBS' American Masters (ugh, I love this long-running series), focussing on the legendary Marvin Gaye. On a random note, I didn't know Marvin's father - an abusive, troubled minister who shot and killed his son in 1984 - had a serious cross-dressing habit!

Anyway, the segment in which they revisited Marvin's post-divorce album, Here, My Dear, reminded me of Usher, who's dissolving his own marriage to the much-maligned Tameka Foster. During their union, Foster was Yoko Ono'd on nearly every blog; women just couldn't stomach her.

Gaye spun the strife, conflict, and projected alimony payments from his crumbling union with Anna Gordy into Here, My Dear. That LP included "Anna's Song," kinda like "Papers" for the late '70s. After Usher's lukewarm Here I Stand, maybe he'll find his post-nuptial fire like Marvin did.

Prison Break...Wasted A Million Flows

2009-11-02T16:25:00.011-05:00

Is it just me or does it seem counterintuitive to put a rapper on ice when he's bringing heat?

The inexplicably prolific author of '08's Top-selling album with a rebirth in the offing; the 27-yo Young Money Entertainment general with a raspy, Robitussin DM-laced growl who spits the dirtiest clean I know (ask Nivea or Lauren London if you don't believe me, lol).

I know that every man has to be accountable for his actions, but the particulars of Lil Wayne's attempted weapons possession case are questionable. My heart sank a little when I saw flicks of a resigned-looking Weezy heading into a Manhattan courthouse last month.

Another young black man entering the revolving door of the prison industrial complex. In February 2010 a judge'll hand down a yearlong sentence as part of a plea deal.

(Consider this: In 2003, a U.S. Justice Department report estimated that about 10.4% of the Black male population ages 25 to 29 was incarcerated.)

Regardless of how much rap has glorified the bid, there's nothing glamorous about a pen - unless you're using it to write bars. And no matter what issues we might have with his extracurriculars, Wayne belongs on a stage, not in a cage.

A Ray of Light

2009-11-02T12:15:00.005-05:00

Ray of Light is one of those albums that I come back to again and again, like a musical Bhagavad Gita. It's Madonna and the genius William Orbit at their collaborative best - this is what Awakening sounds like.

The "Material Girl" becoming a Spiritual Girl.

Look at the LP cover: She never glowed like she did c.1998; that Ashtanga yoga practice was serious. When I'm getting too far from the center, this collection helps bring me back to mental equilibrium, organic fruit, white tea, Buddha beads, lotus position, and right mind.

What Big Eyes You Have!

2009-10-20T23:30:00.005-05:00

I know a little something about wolves in sheep's clothing...maybe that's why am I so enchanted these days by the saga of Little Red Riding Hood.

In September, for Fashion's Night Out, Vogue editrix extraordinaire Grace Goddington recreated her recent 'Lil Red fashion spread for the PRADA Store windows, showing well-suited wolves out to tea with leggy, couture-clad mannequins.

But truth be told I get a kick outta the saucy undertones. In the adaptation that I dig, it's about a good girl in a hooded red toggle cape on the verge of going bad. Into the woods...and into...serious mischieflaughs.

I mean, she's carrying a bottle of Bordeaux and couple of baguettes in that basket. That definitely wasn't for Grandma. (Illustration, Odessa Sawyer, 2004)

Boy Meets Girls, Girls, Girls...and More Girls

2009-10-20T23:22:00.004-05:00

I just read a fascinating Q&A in the November Elle with Diddy, who shares this recollection with columnist Andrew Goldman:

I was in pursuit of female attention from when I was probably four or five. It started with my mother's friends putting me to sleep on their laps.

You've met this guy, right? He might not have had a record label and a net worth of $380 million, lol, but I bet he was just as charming and swaggerific. What, you thought you captured his attention? [Laughs.] So did the next chick.

Guys like Diddy live with a gnawing hunger for affirmation from the opposite sex that has no point of satisfaction: They're never full (and seldom fullfilled), always chasing, looking for something off the menu.

Unless they undergo some seismic transformation, guys like this always comes up short 'cause they can't see the value of the one (The One?)- over the many.

Cop that Elle!

The History of Glamour

2009-10-20T16:50:00.006-05:00

Before Theresa Duncan dug into a glass bowl of Benadryl and Tylenol PM to take her own life, she'd been a writer/filmmaker/gaming designer for girls. Duncan also spent the better part of 12 years as one half of a glamorous art world couple with her boyfriend, the equally talented multimedia artist Jeremy Blake.

As tragic stories go theirs is major (Gus Vant Sant and Bret Easton Ellis have a biopic in mind and are writing the screenplay). A week after 40-year-old Duncan's suicide in 2007, the naked body of 35-year-old Jeremy was found off the waters of Rockaway Beach.

Among the ambitious projects they realized was Duncan's wry, genius, loosely autobiographical The History of Glamour (2000), a 40-minute animated flick that showed in that year's Whitney Biennial. Blake served as co-illustrator and art director. I'm just absorbed and tickled by this vid:

Video: "The History of Glamour," by Theresa Duncan Entertainment & Culture: vanityfair.com

Massacre... J. Cole

2009-10-08T23:53:00.004-05:00

The man who would be King.

The Blues

2009-10-08T06:55:00.004-05:00

The bike, the blues, the Louboutin shoes.

The Present is a Gift....

2009-10-08T05:05:00.023-05:00

A confession. When I worked at a daily paper and was producing clips at a fast clip, I often found myself torn between wanting to share a piece I was proud of and a desire to refrain from huffing and puffing too much, a desire to leggo my ego.

Similarly with this blog: I vacillate between using the most public of forums to promote it and then hanging my head over the shameless plugging [laughs]. Ideally, you'd feel comfortable to come to it as you please - be it once a week or once a year.

Well last Monday, I had one of the most BEautiful nights I've had in a long time, seeing Maxwell and Common in concert on the same night. I was reminded of Common's liner notes for the '05 album Be.

If you build, defend, make, heal, bridge, or connect things, people, or moments for a living and ever feel conflicted about recruiting soldiers to your movement, luring captains to your street team - just gotta acknowledge the source. Regardless of where/how/to whom you bow your head.

Dark & Lovely: A Good HAIRstory

2009-10-05T09:22:00.020-05:00

There were three things I wanted when I was starting school for the first time:

1. A LISP
2. A BROKEN ARM
3. A HEAD OF STRAIGHT HAIR

The Long Island Catholic school I went to from pre-K-8th was initially predominantly white, and for the first couple years, I was the token black girl (named becky) in my grade. Whenever you're outnumbered, whatever the majority is doing/being can seem appealing, sanctioned.

So no matter how many Cosby-worthy affirmations about how beautiful and gifted I heard I was at home, when I stepped onto that asphalt playground, felt like I came up short.

Since the Tiffanys and Danielles had lisps - forget that this was a speech impediment, I used to fake one for good measure. Broken arms and legs requiring casts that begged to be signed and doodled on? OMG, I wanted a cast! (But I never broke any bones and my theory is that my Caribbean family didn't ski.)

And they had hair I noticed most when the last bell rang: In one sweep, they'd slip zippered jackets over uniforms and fling a grip of hair out from pressed collars. Like the shampoo commercials. I mean, Dark & Lovely was good, but I wanted to be Pert Plus, Head and Shoulders above my classmates.

Years later, I'd chop it all off, go back to the natural essence, before finally realizing it doesn't define me.

So I get why Chris Rock thought Good Hair was a compelling topic for a documentary. Opening this Friday, and nationwide Oct. 23, Rock is pulling the curtain back on black girls' relationship with their hair. From what I've seen so far, I think it's flawed by sweeping generalizations, but dude is a comedian not a professor of African-American studies.

I'm curious, will you see it?

Gentlemen Prefer Heels

2009-10-04T16:38:00.017-05:00

It's no secret that when it comes to footwear, men almost to a head prefer heels on a woman. I think in the male fantasy, we'd step off the stoop always looking like Cassie and Lauren in a Sean John ad.

And most of us willingly indulge this preference: We do feel sexier when we're strapped (to heels!), after all, and we (for the most part) appreciate the extra love we get in the streets for making the effort.

But in New York, a pedestrian city that sits on killer sidewalks, running around in killer heels can be taxing, even injurious. Some of us resort to the Superman-in-the-booth quick change from flats to heels.

Though there's something inelegant about ramming your bare feet into a pair of peep-toes on a subway platform as you balance latte, oversize clutch, and mag.

So give the arches a break! To be shod in sole-ful shoes can be appealing...right? [Laughs] I nominate Christian Louboutin's dazzling Fred Flat Lace-Ups as a counterpoint to your most flirty frocks. (Above, variations on the dance shoe by Louboutin and Repetto.)

I Want to Be Influential: A Great Sunday in Brooklyn

2009-10-02T02:24:00.001-05:00

Are you standing in someone's else's light? Reflecting...Drawn like a gypsy moth to their fire when you could be generating your own?

The Mighty Mos Def once remarked that you should not only "shine your light on the world," but "shine your light for the world to see." At the Corridor Gallery this past Sunday for the "Brooklyn Influence" exhibit featuring the portraiture of lensman Jamel Shabazz, I was struck by how each of his subjects seemed to emit a certain light.

Now maybe that's just Shabazz's extraordinary documentary touch at work, but it's probably a combination of both. Somewhere in the gallery literature, I read that the borough claims the highest concentration of artists, activists, and entrepreneurs. It sure feels that way.

The light was blinding.

The show, running through Nov. 7, is curated by Raquel Wilson in conjunction with the community arts organization Dope Swan to commemorate the anniversary of “A Great Day in Brooklyn” and “Another Great Day in Brooklyn.” (Rapper/Actor/Activist Mos Def, above, by Jamel Shabazz)

Even When "I'm a Mess", I Put On a Vest With an 'S' on My Chest

2009-10-02T01:45:00.006-05:00

There's something highly comical and just refreshing about putting your mess where people can see it.

That's exactly what artist Natalie Osborne did in a room adjacent to the Corridor Gallery's main foyer, as part of the newly opened exhibit "Strictly Regulated". The group show highlights the work of six emerging female artists and runs concurrent with the exhibit "Brooklyn Influence".

Osborne's video series and installation "I'm a Mess: Finding My Pace" (wall detail, above) confronts the notion of the black superwoman: a towering pile of shirts, shoes, and frocks is thrown into a corner of the gallery. Kinda looked like my bedroom on a Monday morning, lol.

You have to see the entire piece for yourself, but from now on when the kryptonite's got me down if you ask me how I'm doin', I'm just gonna say, I'm a mess, and finding my pace. So much more liberating, don't you think? [Laughs]

We Major (Lazer): Nina Sky On Their Own Time and So Flavor-full

2009-09-25T22:14:00.025-05:00

In ancient folklore, they say that the witching hour represents the moment when black magic is at its most powerful. Cast a spell, cast off an albatross...

If that's true, then the soreceresses of Nina Sky, Natalie and Nicole Albino, have been boiling up a serious bitches' brew.

To fly-by-night fans, the Queens, N.Y.-born duo haven't made noise since 2004's super-hit "Move Ya Body," but the ladies spent the last five years or so making a label change (Universal to Polo Grounds/J Records), writing music, DJ-ing, re-mixing for artists like The-Dream and J.Holiday, and touring like mad.

Homegrown but Puerto Rican by blood, they have that quintessential New York City-native something that a million June Ambroses couldn't recreate if you ain't have it already (They shout out Pio Pio, for goodness sake, lol! Okaay, A.).

That je ne sais quoi extends from the external - a certain way we put our look together - to the internal - a melting pot mentality that sees culture in every quarter.

In October, their oft-delayed sophomore album, Starting Today, is slated to drop and anyone who's heard early singles like the sugary electro-pop "Beautiful People" or the R&B-flavored "On Some Bullshit", can attest to the growth. Even the vocals are fuller, more lush. (This is the music Diddy wishes Cassie could make.)

On the significance of the album title they've said, "We believe if you dwell on the past, you can never move forward. Our songs now are about putting past experiences to rest and approaching life with a positive outlook.”

Nowhere is this forward outlook more apparent than their collabo with Major Lazer (feat. Ricky Blaze) on the flavor-full "Keep it Goin' Louder", off Diplo and Switch's dancehall-drenched Gunz Don't Kill People, Lazers Do. Pitchfork calls it one of the best pop songs of the year.

Bitches. Brew.

Just For Kicks

2009-09-23T20:09:00.012-05:00

It's Autumn in New York and that always gets me thinking about fall dressing. Some weeks ago, I was stopped at a traffic light in the West 50s and noticed a girl probably in her early teens, dirty-blonde hair cut into a messy pageboy, pale skin, freckles, and clad in a tissue-thin grey shirtdress. Like she'd been plucked out of a Norman Rockwell tableau.

Then as if to dot the "i" on the post-war American girl look, I looked down and realized she had on grey cap-toe canvas sneakers, a single shoelace trailing behind her.

Like the perfect black ballet flat, vintage dime-store canvas sneakers have been my obsession for a couple years now. (Guys in Chucks give me butterflies...but that's another story) I just think nothing says Autumn like warm layers, a boyfriend jean, and battered Keds. That's a detail up top of Rockwell's 1964 The Problem We All Live With, and a 1993 Bloomie's ad for the classic shoe.

Guy Walks Into An Advertising Agency...We Fall For Mad Men

2009-09-22T23:05:00.018-05:00

Elegant. Throwback. Sexy.

While it's impossible for me to conjure the early 1960s without also confronting the spectre of fire hoses, barking dogs, and black bodies swinging in Birmingham, AMC's "Mad Men," now in its third season and unfolding in 1963, transports, leaving the historical ugliness largely off-set.

These days the scripted television landscape is rife with sociopaths, blood-suckers, and men in their prolonged adolescence, but with "Mad Men" there are ad-ults (you have to put the emphasis in its proper place, laughs). The writing is impeccable of course, and the exceptionally polished fashion (pencil skirts, jumpers, shifts, red lipstick, men's suiting and cardigans...) makes me yearn for something bygone.

It's been an added bonus to watch as the writers revisit iconic American brands and businesses in the guise of Sterling Cooper accounts: John Deere, Madison Square Garden, even the little-known "Patio," which was featured on one of my favorite epis so far this season.

Patio, in real-life, marked Pepsi's foray into diet cola in 1963, an appeal to women watching their waistlines. Execs changed the name from Patio to Diet Pepsi after winning thumbs for the low-cal beverage. And I only know this because the Queens Museum mounted an exhibit on it - but Pepsi Co. was also the first to train and hire an all-black Sales team during the Jim Crow era to market and sell to African-American customers. The advertising they created is fascinating to examine. Those gentleman became the first of a generation of black corporate Ad Men in the 1940s and early 1950s.

(Hey DJ) Hard Hittin Harry, Play That Song That Kept Me Dancin All Night Long

2009-09-17T18:10:00.020-05:00

Recently swept into Deity. It was night, and it was hot. Feeling flushed, I slipped into the ladies' lounge to dab the dew from my lip. At the door, I found the reverential spirit in which the place had been named, no christened, extended to the loos, which were appropriately marked "gods" and "goddesses."

And although it was Sunday, the only laying on of hands happening at this Downtown Brooklyn boite was between the women and the men. Did I mention that it was hot? Well... It was many things...

Presiding over this mass of undulating brown bodies gathered on two floors was DJ Hard Hittin Harry. Part DJ - part beat minister, the Brick City, N.J., native (by way of Port-au-Prince, Haiti) had even those of us who'd bypassed the rum punch feeling punch-drunk off his unimpeachable set list.

Helpless to shake the sounds from my step, I went in search of DJ HHH. "Before any party you can usually catch me in front of my computer downloading music and organizing my playlists for the night," said the DJ (below, c.Stella Magloire), who wears his considerable soul, reggae, hip hop, and rock stripes without pretentiousness.

I asked him to create a playlist for BGNB comprised of the 10 songs he'd play if he could only go with a dime. The veteran selecta, who counts turntable icons Kool DJ Red Alert, Mr. Magic & Marley Marl, and Frankie Crocker among his influences, did not disappoint:

DJ HARD HITTIN HARRY UNITY SOUND PLAYLIST

Win Some - Courtney John
Time To Win - Half Pint
King Pharo - Everton Blender
Why Can't We - Jah Cure
Many Things - Seun Kuti (pictured, top) & Fela's Egypt 80
Amour De Nombakele - Pamelo Mounk'a
Premier Gaou - Magic System
K'em Pa Sote - Boukman Eksperyans
Love You No More - Shabba Ranks, featuring Mavado
Mama's Love - Mavado

For more, tune into the DJ's weekly online TV mixshow, The Global Jam Session, Tuesdays, 2-5 p.m., www.axiomonline.tv. (Peace to Coup D'Etat Brooklyn.)

Where Do Broken Icons Go? To Oprah's Show. Whitney Houston Opens Up.

2009-09-14T15:35:00.009-05:00

One year, for my catholic school's annual Talent Show, I decided I'd perform a lip-synced rendition of Whitney Houston's "How Will I Know?" So I come home the day of the show (after weeks of rehearsal) with a copy of the single and told my Grams she had to do my hair JUST LIKE WHITNEY. [Laughs]

My septugenarian West Indian grandmother was all, "little young ladies don't go out with their hair out!" We argued, argued, and then compromised on a single braid. She tied a long swath of lace ribbon around my big head and sent me on my way with my pastel leggings, boots, and chunky sweater. (Placed first by the way! Haha.)

But my Whitney thing was always more than poster-hanging fandom; I adored this woman. During her surprisingly candid interview today with Oprah Winfrey, I remembered why. Whitney, looking luminous in a chocolate-bronze shift, remarked, "I didn't know about the largeness of what they call icon."

The Newark, N.J., native who grew up waiting in the wings of fame (mom Cissy a well-known gospel singer, and cousin Dionne Warwick a chart-topping recording artist), admitted nothing prepares you for success on that scale - All At Once.

If you wrote her off that season Bravo aired "Being Bobby Brown," where she prowled Atlanta in a tired fur coat, drowning in drugs and dysfunction with Mr. "My Prerogative," O's two-part season premiere is worth watching.

'Labor Day Parade, Rest in Peace Bob Marley'

2009-09-13T08:12:00.008-05:00

It's a rite of passage each year for Caribbean ex-patriots and their American-born hyphenates to revel in roots when summer skips off into memory.

Eastern Parkway becomes a corridor lined with stalls of our oxtail, rice, griot, lambi, bottles of sorrel...This season I'm honoring this city, making sure he knows I never take him granted.

I went to Carnival this year after sitting out a few and as always I was so up. (Yeah, it can be a grope-fest, but so can the subway. And Bloomberg has barricaded it and squeezed some of the lawlessness out, probably for the gawking tourists and the gentrifying set.)

Snapped a few flicks and wanted to post a couple. Did you know that the ritual J'Ouvert (or juvee) celebration that kicks off at about 2 in the morning, the night before the Labor Day Parade has its origins in the French West Indies, when Haitian slaves (and those from Dominica, Guadeloupe, etc.) spilled into the avenues to fete emancipation?

At the parade this year, revelers in fitteds and jeans came splattered in the ceremonial powders, mud, oil, and general goodwill. What a sight to behold.

I Really Dig Your Company...Your Peace Mentality

2009-09-12T23:02:00.013-05:00

This one is for my girls. Whether it was when we meet up talking late night over Earl Grey or burning up the celly, I hear you when you say you're missing that certain something.

These days, fellas are too often operating from a shopworn, one-size-fits-Every-Girl manual. Or maybe it seems like they barely scratch your surface. Missed connections, indeed.

I always thought Jill Scott had it right: When it comes to romance, a walk in the park after dark can be sublime. Starting with a simple spot to spark conversation can be both memorable and effective.

While I certainly appreciate a guy who'll whisk me off to the Griffin while it's still in previews or make reservations at warmly-lit Il Buco, one of my best (PG) dates ever started casually at a pub on the L.E.S. and wound its way to my companion's tiny downtown apartment, where the books were so plentiful they doubled as furniture.

He fed me left-over birthday cake from a pastry box and then thumbed through three compact photo albums' worth of his history. As nondescript music played on his MAC, we dialogued until morning began to knock at the windows.
***
When I was little, I used to watch after-school re-runs of "Three's Company" with my grandmother, who spoke no English. The sexual innuendo was mostly over my head (and hers?), but I loved what I thought was a reenactment of how grown folk dated.

You know?? [Laughs] Janet or Chrissy would be on the rotary phone 4, 5 nights a week like, "Okay, I'll meet you at 8 at the Regal Beagle." The lively bar was just up the stairs from their beachfront Santa Monica, Calif., apartment. They'd get off work, throw on the high-waisted skirt, tan wedge heels, and go.

The Regal Beagle was low-key atmosphere, no prix-fixe menus or hipster cred.

But now I think the Regal Beagle is a state of mind. It just means you're open to possibility.

I Think I'm From Where Dreams Are Made. The Lights Will Inspire You.

2009-09-11T18:39:00.002-05:00

First things first.

One Hand in the Air for all of us Born Yankees, we the few New York City natives, who know what it is to walk by skyscrapers and never look up because we were too busy slinging tokens and bus passes, stopping at the deli for a beef patty and a quarter water.

Shout to the barber shop with the beautiful black men getting the edge-up, to the corner where the grizzled elders are politickin as the scent of Nag Champa wafts overhead, to the beauty shops like Harlem Berry where the ablutions happen over the sink. You might have relocated to Houston, W. VA, FL, no matter, I bet you still bleed blue. And I bet that Blueprint 3 is on repeat today.

As the still agile Jigga Man preps his show at the Garden (I see you, Greg!) tonight, benefitting the city's bravest and finest, I wonder where were you on 9/11? I was on Morningside Heights and some of us converged on my friend M's Uptown pad overlooking the George Wash. Smoke billowing even from that vantage point, we prayed, talked, reflected, cried, called out incantations. A Towering loss.

Allow me to reintroduce myself: I'm from the Empire State, most definitely from New York and I go by the name of Black Girl Named Becky. If this is your first visit with me, wipe your feet, welcome. To everyone else who's supported me, I appreciate you. I'm back.

You coming?

Are You Not Entertained?? My 100th Post

2009-08-19T16:57:00.008-05:00

What more can I say? In December 2008, with my industry in desperate need of triage and a recession threatening to cramp my creative muscle, I endeavored to revive my long-abandoned blog.

Back in 2005, blogger was still a relatively fresh concept, but three or four years on, with once-hot social networking sites like MySpace already overtaken by newer models like Twitter, Digg, and their ilk, it seemed a little quaint to be blogging.

But I wanted a place to work through ideas in long- or short form, to co-sign creative artists, movements, trends, or just keep up the fashion/culture reporting that I'd been doing professionally.

I was reluctant to publicize BGNB at first, seeing it more as a private notepad, but the feedback when I did share it was always encouraging.

So here I am at a milestone of sorts. I mean, TV sitcoms celebrate when they hit their 100th episode; the centenary birthday is considered a feat in longevity. 100 feels special.

Anyway, I want to thank all of you guys who've been both loyal and unique visitors to the blog. I've loved getting your ideas: "You should write an article about _____"

I heard your complaints too about not updating frequently enough, but I find the posts lack something when I chase the clock.

Can't be your (media)takeout, I'm slow food y'all:) So much of pop culture is in the muck right now, deadening; more than ever we need to be Awake.

For all the site meters, analytics, and so forth, technology can't measure how you respond to a particular post. I encourage you to wield the power of your mouse and CLICK on the boxes if you think something is interesting, funny.

If you feel otherwise - have your say in the comments section! I welcome praise and criticism with equal humility.

Going forward, I'll take a short break. And then plan to deliver more focused content, more of my lens, less knee-jerking.

Finally, I've been called a romantic more times than I want to remember. I'll cop to wanting always to be inspired. I hoard images just like on the inspiration wall pictured here. What's that about?

All in service of living out my dreams. I wish you all the same.
-BGNB

More to Love: ABC Reporter Puts Loafer in Mouth During 'Entourage' Q&A

2009-08-18T23:10:00.016-05:00

It's something of a double standard in dating: While a girl might have her figure scrutinized by a potential suitor, we typically view guys who carry around extra pounds as cuddly, more to love, hence terms like "love handles." ("Muffin top" doesn't sound quite as endearing.)

So I've been surprised that a storyline on HBO's Entourage had Turtle's character, who's dating ex-Sopranos cast member Jamie-Lynn Sigler, fretting about whether a pretty girl would really date a bigger guy unless it was scripted for a Hollywood flick like Knocked Up.

Now even if you cancelled your HBO or weren't a fan of Entourage to begin with, you might have gleaned that Jerry Ferrara (Turtle) and Jamie-Lynn are actually a couple off-screen as well, dating for nearly a year.

But the ABC news reporter who interviewed the actress clearly overlooked this tidbit in his pre-interview research and proceeds to ask her whether she'd ever date a "fat dude" in real life?! Sigh. (Click below for dude's attempt at redeeming himself.)

ABC Reporter Accuses Jamie-Lynn Sigler of Dating a "Fat Dude"

Shared via AddThis

What To Wear When Rooting for the Home Team: A (Citi) Field Guide

2009-08-17T09:34:00.011-05:00

Went to a Mets game at Citi Field this past Friday and enjoyed amazing field-level seats in the 10th Row. Got to thinking about the perennial question of what not to wear to the ballgame.

There's probably a difference when catching say, a Cubs game at Wrigley Field, where the Midwestern fashion aesthetic is perhaps more relaxed? But in New York, where the fashion stakes are always higher, it seems stricter standards apply-even at the stadium.

While waiting for my game date to arrive at the no. 7 subway exit, I saw a full range of sporty options. But in my section, I loved how the women and the men alike casually pulled together team apparel in a way that flashed support but without going overboard.

Still, for the ladies, dressing can get a little trickier. My personal faux pas include high heels! Opt for open-toe flats, but no $3 flip-flops (I love them but not here). For makeup, all you need is sunscreen, lip gloss, and, if you wear it, your choice of mascara or eye-liner.

Finally, MLB hasn't quite nailed feminine cut on home/road tees and jerseys, so do the work: lop off collars, go a size smaller, etc. Pair with white or black ankle-fit jeans, clam diggers a la Audrey, or cut-offs that don't have fringe suspended from the hem.

If you do leggings, you'll look like you're headed for a fun afternoon at the batting cages. A game-day program, beer and cracker jacks are all the accessories you need.

As irritating as I often find her, I must say A-Rod flame Kate Hudson (top) has terrific game style. You just know all eyes are on her winning look during that 7th inning stretch.

A Love Supreme

2009-08-16T04:51:00.013-05:00

Believe it or not, I still have a pile of CDs, and up until a few days ago, they were sitting in their clunky plastic jewel cases.

So I was separating liner notes and tossing plastic, when I came across John Coltrane's A Love Supreme in its artsy cardboard cover.

When I bought that CD I was in the middle of, let's call it "independent research" on the tenor saxophone player (this is how egghead, world-class procrastinator undergrads get down;)

Obsessed with Coltrane (1926-67), I sought out the details of his creative process but learned a lot more about him personally along the way.

Over the course of many months and biographies, I learned that after 8 years, he'd grown apart from and left wife Naima, the namesake for his classic composition. He met pianist Alice McLeod (above) the same year at Birdland.

Alice introduced him to mystical spiritual texts like the Bhagavad Gita and he took her into his quartet and as his wife. It's not a conscious thing, but I was probably looking for proof that this kind of union existed, one that was equal parts attraction, intellectual, spiritual...going behind the music inadvertently offered something up.

They'll Name A City After 'Us'

2009-08-16T03:26:00.000-05:00

I've been recommending (500) Days of Summer, one of my favorite flicks this season, and the feedback has been glowing so I figured I should share it here.

Maybe you've seen the trailer and brushed it off as another twee, indie rom-com, but it's so much better than that.

It follows this couple (Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt) in their late 20s and tells the truth with humor and a soundtrack that burns. There's no meet cute (they meet at work), no tired set-ups, and no neat happy ending.

Check it! Bonus: For fashionistas, you'll get a kick out of how the wardrobe director uses vintage wares in a palette of blues on Deschanel to help mark her personal progression.

Love in the Afternoon

2009-08-14T21:48:00.023-05:00

Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board.

That's how Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God begins, and I could still hear my Multicultural lit instructor Eisa Nefertari Ulen's voice when I decided to crack it open again this summer.

Zora's work made me walk upright, like in those old V-8 commercials. I've discovered that while some girls gather notions about love from romantic comedies or women's magazine's, mine were coming from books.

Set in Florida (spanning Orlando, Palm Beach, and the muck of the Everglades), Hurston wrote Eyes in 1937 during a prolific seven weeks in Haiti.

Exploding the myth of the "tragic mulatto", Hurston gives us Janie Starks, married off at 17 to a crusty, land-owning older man.

By the time Janie meets 28-yo Tea Cake Woods, she's a 40-yo widow with two loveless marriages behind her. What happens in that final act, including a torrential Hurricane Katrina-like storm, stuck with me like a stubborn kernel in the tooth.

Solo Star

2009-08-11T09:26:00.002-05:00

Recognize that girl? That's Solange Knowles, coming into her freshly cropped cut and positively radiating.

Maxwell Covers GIANT

2009-08-11T08:36:00.001-05:00

Ummm...speechless.

Carol's Daughter, Meet Angelina's Beautiful Daughter, Zahara

2009-08-11T07:51:00.004-05:00

This is just an aside. I always pause when I come across tabloid photos of actress Angelina Jolie with her adorable daughters if only because the adopted, Ethiopia-born Zahara regularly appears with her hair uncombed.

I could swear that I heard her partner, Brad Pitt, had been introduced to the Carol's Daughter line of hair products and was delighted. So either they learn to plait and detangle her hair or enlist someone to do it for them.

Black girls uniquely learn to manage their hair from those childhood experiences with our elders passing hands through it. With my mom, her nieces, five paternal aunts, and a grandmother frequently within braiding distance of my head, I often felt like one of those headless mannequins they use to instruct on at beauty schools. But I learned what I liked and how to care for my mane.

Not to mention discovering the vast array of hair conditioning tools available. Years before Carol's Daughter, there was grease;) Dax, Kuza, Pink Oil Moisturizer, Moisture Max, Optimum...

(Dirty) Money Talks: Diddy Makes a Band for His 'Last Train to Paris'

2009-08-11T07:06:00.008-05:00

Diddy, Dawn, late of Danity Kane, and Kalenna (pron. Kuh-lee-na) comprise the rapper-producer's latest project, Dirty Money. Dawn has always been my favorite singer from DK, but I don't know yet how I'm feeling about this set-up. Especially after learning by way of his current MTV reality vehicle, "Making His Band," that he took voice lessons so he could actually sing on the album!

Look, I love a man like Diddy who's adventurous, unafraid of risk, but sometimes knowing your limitations can save you from yourself too. (Rapper extraordinaire Andre Benjamin pulled off crooning on The Love Below because his delivery is already so rich.) Still, I guess studio magic will ensure that it's not unbearable.

Are you hotly anticipating Diddy's next musical offering?

Black Butterfly: Model Muses at the Metropolitan Museum

2009-08-11T00:13:00.017-05:00

I've decided that if we get a do-over, I want to come back a supermodel. Not the anonymous coat hangers from places like the Czech Republic or Estonia, but the genetically blessed creatures who by virtue of their abundant pulchritude wound up retired by 30, married to moguls and millionaires, and staring at trunks of the best couture threads, from Azzedine Alaia to vintage Versace.

You know them on a first-name basis: Naomi, Christy, Linda, Cindy...

The "Model as Muse" exhibit closed this past weekend at the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Costume Institute. I swung by for a second time to take a good look at the dizzyingly beautiful show, which included well-curated rooms devoted to decades in fashion and modeling from the 1920s on.

Archival issues of Vogue were flung open to memorable images by lensmen, including Peter Lindbergh, Herb Ritts, Irving Penn, and Richard Avedon. In some instances, looks worn on the page were featured on mannequins arranged on plateaus.

You would have recognized looks from George Michael's "Freedom" video in the '80s room, and pieces from Marc Jacobs's infamous Perry Ellis collection in the grunge room. G.M. and Nirvana pounded from the speakers in the corresponding spaces; it was perfect, if obvious.

But I gravitated to the pioneering black models, some of whom I admittedly had only passing familiarity with: Naomi Sims, who died at 61 just days before the exhibit ended and covered the Oct. 1969 issue of LIFE; Donyale Luna (left), who was cast in William Klein's Qui-Etes Vous, Polly Magoo? (1966) and landed a 1964 cover of British Vogue.

If you missed this show, you can always grab the catalog at the gift shop. Or the souvenir Marc Jacobs lipstick tube pens!

I Hear Your Lyrics, I Feel Your Spirit: O Introduces Jay-Z to Her Book Club

2009-08-10T23:46:00.007-05:00

You may have heard that Oprah Winfrey was recently in BK, the Marcy housing projects specifically, to interview the MC cum mogul for an upcoming issue of her eponymous mag.

If you're among the viewers who watched as she nearly disemboweled rapper Ludacris when he appeared on her chatfest promoting the Academy Award-winning Crash, then you were likely shaking your head, as I was, at the news that Winfrey's people had wrangled Hova for an intimate spread.

Umm, could Jay beam any brighter??

What's even more interesting about this image is Winfrey has clearly wasted no time inculcating Jay with her brand of self-help spirituality. Jay is toting a copy of Eckhart Tolle's "A New Earth," a recent Oprah Book Club selection.

In fact, I have to admit that while Oprah was late on this, Tolle is the truth. A certain scribe put me on to him years ago and locked doors began to unlock.

Easy, Breezy

2009-08-10T23:08:00.009-05:00

A star of the sci-fi fantasy "Heroes," Dania Ramirez is the most recent bold-face name to sign a cosmetics contract to rep for Cover Girl. The drugstore brand hasn't been shy about embracing diversity among its ranks of spokeswomen (Latifah, Rihanna, Tyra, etc.), and I think Dania is another good choice. Sometimes it seems as if the same handful of Latina starlets get all the shine (see the seemingly reluctant-to-be-ethnic Jessica Alba, Eva Mendes, and Eva Longoria). It's great to have fresh faces.

He Is King?

2009-08-10T22:35:00.006-05:00

Whether you're a fan or foe of Diddy, I just think you can't argue the man is clean with a rack. Take this ensemble: I think the same look, with its bold shot of color, on another man could be emasculating, but it's Sean For the Win the way he's rocking it.

A few things are key here imo, among them the well-edited ice cube selection, the perfect fit of his trousers (bonus points for veering from jeans!), and the impeccable grooming.

So he may have Invented the Remix, but he didn't invent great style. Rather, he projects his sartorial influences. There's the Harlem swag. Before his fourth birthday, Diddy lost his father, Melvin - an associate of the drug kingpin immortalized in 2007's American Gangster, Frank Lucas - to a life of crime. Combs's smooth lines feel like a throwback to that controversial era.

There's evidence of his exposure to high fashion too, a little Rat Pack thrown in, and of course his own individual imprint to tie it all up. Nothing about his choices screams trend-spotter, and unlike a Kanye, who can appear costumed, Mr. Sean John just looks effortless.

A Midsummer's To-Do List

2009-07-25T02:56:00.013-05:00

If you live along the Northeast coast, you've been suffering perhaps through the summer that wasn't. With August in sight though it seems futile to keep fighting the elements. Better to embrace the cool afternoons and breezy mornings.

Why don't you:

1. Behold a Masterpiece. Sit on the steps of the Met after studying the heiroglyphs carved across pieces in the museum's expansive collection of Egyptian art.

2. Salute the Sun. Enroll in a local yoga class, dance course, gym, taking advantage of any introductory offers by going as frequently as you can in the first week.

3. Discover and Download. Underappreciated music. Erykah Badu's 2003 Worldwide Underground is an EP composed to get her through a spell of writer's block. But it has gems ("I Want You", "Back in the Day") and her hand-scribbled liner notes are bound to move you.

4. Put Your Fruit in Your Mouth. For a few consecutive days, I dare you to try eating 4-6 varied fresh fruits (not dried or canned) for breakfast and lunch. Thank me later.

5. Recall the worst or most regrettable thing you did in the last month. Forgive yourself for it today - and forever.

6. Go to an outdoor concert and Rock That Thing - literally. I've been to so many shows, rhythm & blues specifically, where I'm pleased and astonished by how folks step out. Talkin' Sunday best here. I'm convinced they have an even better time than I do.

7. Make it a Current Affair. Lie in the park or just perch on your porch to read an article about a subject that challenges you. The Economist is a treasure trove; The New Yorker is good too. All done? Read a book and finish it.

8. Turn the Dial. "I Can't Live (If Living is Without You)." It took me forever to register that the message in Mariah's track was absurd and downright unhealthy. Rid your iPod of love song cliches that celebrate the long-suffering man/woman.

9. Get the Scoop. Order an ice cream with every topping you can fit on it, calories be damned for one night.

10. Admit Your Blue Crush. There's something so rejuvenating about being by the water. Go to the beach, the pool, the shore, jump in or just get your feet wet.

11. Now that it's Raining More Than Ever...On a gloomy day, go out for for drinks where the menu is festive: sangria, pina coladas, margaritas, whatever. If they've tossed an umbrella in it, even better.

12. It's not About the Bike. It's just about learning to do something you never got around to: learn to swim, play aooustic guitar, ride a bike, cook three must-eat dishes...

'See If I Care, Good and Bad Hair...' Beyonce's Baby Sis Learns the 'First Cut is the Deepest'

2009-07-25T01:20:00.016-05:00

Beyonce's baby sister parted ways with her weave this week and the critics, celebs and civilians alike, took her to task for the offense of unnecessary baldness. I thought she looked chic. What did you think - is it a glamour(ous) 'do or a glamour(ous) don't?

The junior Knowles, who's tried everything in the last year from war paint to day-glo bodysuits in her feeble attempt at shining beneath the total eclipse that is Beyonce, seems already to be buckling under the weight of the backlash.

A friend told me that Solange has since been spotted wearing a wig. (Side note: Kanye is dating a chick, Amber Rose, with a nearly bald, blonde 'do and the reaction to her futuristic 'fro has included a contract with the Ford modeling agency. Hunh?)

Feeling pressed to respond to the overwhelming response, Solange took to her Twitter account, and addressed the uproar in a hyper-punctuated series of tweets. The gist of it was that she simply wanted to get free.

We all know that in pop/soul music, big hair, long hair, fake hair, processed hair are de riguer unless you're among the bold and beautiful few like Erykah or Jill.

ONLY reason i responded to this i have is because i was disappointed to see my name more talked about then #iranelection. dont. want. a. edge. up. or a perm. because. im not trying. to make this “a style” or a statement. i. just. wanted. to. be. free. from. the. bondage. that. black. women sometimes. put. on. themselves. with. hair."

And we do. I once rode an A train to Brooklyn and realized that Every single black girl in that car had Naomi Campbell-length tracks sewn into her mass of concealed cornrows. Indeed, with my own straightened, always weave-less shoulder-length 'do, I was an anomaly. It was as if a decree had come down: If it isn't long, it's wrong.

Once, years ago, I pulled a Solange and took scissors and clippers to my head after some emotional isht and went to my brother's barber shop to shape-up the nape. The male barbers were disappointed to say the least.

But the barber who reluctantly edged me up was far more cruel than Bow Wow to Solange. He seemed personally offended, bent over my head, barking, "Did you do this shit over some guy?!"

When I saw the flicks of Miss "Soul Angel" on the 'Net, I was right back in that barber's chair on Long Island. Felt for her. You can tell when someone's reaching, searching. And black women inordinately dig deep by confronting their hair.

In that period, I learned some ugly truths but I learned some profound, enduring truths, too, that I might not have if I hadn't been stripped down to my barest essentials.

Here's hoping Solange logs off Twitter and goes deep.

Left at the Altar, NBA Star's Ex-Fiancee, Kesha Nichols, Keeps 'Dancing'

2009-07-22T12:53:00.006-05:00

Kesha Nichols Breaks Down Her Breakup

Shared via AddThis

NBA player Richard Jefferson's jilted fiancee and former Nets dancer, Kesha Nichols, recently gave an interview to ABC's Diane Sawyer.

Watch the video linked above and you can't help but think girl is vying for someone at ABC to offer her a slot on "Dancing With the Stars." It worked for that chick from "The Bachelor", right?

At around (-2:00), notice how Diane keeps harping about how much money Nichols may have lost on the $500,000 wedding (not $2 million as has been reported). Listen for her dodgy, why-do-you-think-I-was-dating-an-athlete?? response, lol. (kidding!)

Nichols also got a six-figure parting gift from the former New Jersey Net for her trouble. Would that pacify you if you were left at the altar?

In the Age of Obama: CNN Rolls Out 'Black in America' Part 2

2009-07-22T11:02:00.005-05:00

When it was given its premiere in July 2008, even those I knew who were largely oblivious of the 24-hour cable news cycle tuned in to CNN's "Black in America" series, hosted by Soledad O'Brien.

O'Brien's own mixed heritage (a mother from Cuba and father from Ireland and a complexion that reflects the mosaic of the black diaspora) was a clear marker that defining "black" would be a task in and of itself.

In the weeks following airing of the first installment, I heard broad complaints: The approach was too anecdotal, i.e., the segment producers focused on too few families.

Or the subjects fell under two stark extremes of the economic spectrum, either hand-to-mouth, or upper-middle class, as with the family of Harvard scholar Henry Louis Gates, Jr., who ironically finds himself in the news just as the series' second package has its debut.

There were those who were angered at a percieved lack of focus on the black success stories. After all, how many of us watched the program on TV or streamed it online with our "Obama" buttons pinned to lapels and shoulder bags?

But for many of the first-generation black Americans, whose parents immigrated to the states from the West Indies or regions such as Ghana and Nigeria across the African continent, there was a sense that our story was overlooked.

There's a unique brand of double consciousness that you learn to navigate when you're carrying the culture, customs, food, language of your parents alongside that which you've been born into.

In many ways, I represent my parents' immigrant mindset, including an emphasis on education, back-breaking hard work, and fiscal responsibility; in other respects, I've embraced the legacy of all the everyday black American heroes who made it possible for us to be here in the first place. But I think it's a story worth exploring.

On the suburban block on which I was raised, the percentage of families from the American South and from the Carribean was nearly equal. And as much as we were neighborly, there were moments that divided us... . The poet Sonia Sanchez calls that being "wounded in the house of a friend."

I don't have high expectations that part two of CNN's much-debated series will offer groundbreaking coverage tonight, but I'm sure I'll catch it. It seems the conversation is a start. Will you watch?

Junk Food for Thought: 'L.A. Candy' Tops Best Sellers List For Second Week

2009-07-13T11:29:00.006-05:00

L.A. Candy, reality star Lauren Conrad's debut "novel" is No. 1 on The New York Times Best Sellers list, falling under the Children's chapter books section. Sigh.

Yes, I'm partly to blame for this literary travesty selling like it has.
The book's title is apt, it's really a confection of a young adult novel; it belongs in a beach bag, not on this list. Sadder still, I don't think LC could name a living author on or off any best sellers list. Sign of the Times.